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She places the tray of food on the bed, the aroma tantalizing my senses, but it does little to distract me from the burning question that threatens to consume me whole.
My fingers clench into fists, and I can feel my frustration bubbling beneath the surface, ready to erupt. I lock eyes with her. Is it that she doesn’t know the truth, or has she been instructed not to tell me?
“Tell me what happened to them,” I demand, my voice growing sharper with each word. “I won’t rest until I know they’re safe.”
“You haven’t been eating.” She’s ignoring me. “I figured that maybe it was because you wanted a bit of company. I can only imagine how lonely you might be.” She offers me a kind smile, but I can see right through her.
My chest tightens. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh, I hate to hear that. If it’s the food, I’ll have you know that the chef happens to be one of the best in the country. He can make you whatever you’d like. Just tell me something, and I’ll get him to make it for you.”
She can’t be serious.
I take a deep breath, struggling to contain my irritation. The mention of food does nothing to satisfy my hunger for answers, and her attempt to distract me only fuels my determination. I force a smile, my lips barely curving upward. “That’s lovely,” I say, my tone icy. “But that’s not what I’m looking for, right now.”
The maid fidgets with the hem of her apron, her fingers trembling slightly. She seems to be at a loss. I know she must understand how important this is to me, yet she continues to evade my questions.
“Please,” I whisper, my eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I need to know they’re safe.”
“Miss Tryst, I—” she stammers, her face paling as she struggles to find the right words.
“Enough,” I snap, my voice sharp and unforgiving. “This isn’t a game. My children’s lives could be in danger, and all you’re doing is avoiding the question.”
Her eyes widen, and I can see the fear flicker behind them. She knows she has backed herself into a corner, but it doesn’t bring me any satisfaction. I want answers, not fear. My hands clench into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I fight to maintain control over my emotions.
“Miss Tryst,” the maid murmurs, “I understand your concern, but I’m not the one who can help you with that.”
But you know something.
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare the maid down, my voice unwavering. “I won’t ask again. Where are my daughters?”
Her eyes dart around the room. She opens her mouth to speak but hesitates, as if trying to decide whether it’s worth the risk.
“Please, Miss Tryst,” she whispers, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “I want to help you, but I can’t, not with that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I challenge, stepping closer to her until we’re practically nose-to-nose.
“I—” she begins, her voice barely audible.
“Speak up!” I demand, my eyes blazing with determination. “Tell me what you know.”
“Miss Tryst, I…” she tries again, but her voice falters under the weight of my anger.
“Answer my question!” I demand once more, my voice laced with anguish and frustration. But the maid remains tight-lipped, her eyes wide with fear.
A sudden surge of desperation courses through me, igniting a fire in my veins. Without another word, I grab the edge of the tray and send it flying across the room. Plates and cutlery crash to the floor with a deafening clatter, food splattering against the pristine walls.
“Please,” I plead, my throat raw with emotion. “Just tell me where they are.”
The maid stumbles backward, her eyes wide with shock and terror. She must think I’ve completely lost my mind—I can hardly blame her. Maybe I have. Being isolated in a room will do that to a person.
“Miss Tryst, I—” she chokes out, but her voice trembles, unable to form the words I so desperately need to hear.
“Is it really so hard to tell me the truth?” I ask, though it comes out more as a sob than a question. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to not know if your own flesh and blood are safe?”
She hesitates, her gaze darting between me and the door, as if weighing her options. Then, in a split second, she makes her choice. With a gasp, the maid turns on her heel and flees from the room.
“Wait!” I cry out, right after her. I’m not as fast as I used to be…likely from a lack of food.
